


Past Death

by whitachi



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 14:46:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whitachi/pseuds/whitachi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kain awakens and meets his new master.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Death

The fever burned through Kain long after his injuries had become little more than further itches that he couldn't scratch. He'd open his eyes at the feel of too many cold hands moving him, dressing him, cleaning him, and each time he did, the room seemed different and he could not make his eyes fix on those who tended him. They seemed clad in dark hoods, and he could never get a firm fix on how many surrounded him; perhaps it was just the shadows of the room and the haze of heat clouding his eyes making things seem far more sinister. They were caring for him, after all. That leg had been broken, he was sure, but now those cold hands were on it once more, and he felt the brush of his benefactor's fall of dark hair as she leaned over him, murmuring words of healing and willing his bone to knit back to perfection. He lifted his hand as much as he had strength to, reaching for her, and opened his mouth to thank her, or ask where he was, but managed only a dry crackle before the cold hands pulled away and the shadows swallowed up their figures again. 

I am dying, Kain thought with certainty as he counted the beats of his pounding heart to keep the minutes from becoming twisted by the heat into hours. Or I have died already, and this is simply the wait before I pass along to the next. Or worse, this is all there is... 

A door he had not seen before (or perhaps simply a door that he had failed to process as a door) opened and Kain cringed away from the light that poured in until a shape, a shadow, a silhouette took form in the frame. Kain counted six heartbeats in his throat and became more convinced of his latter options. A man in the shape of armor, or armor in the shape of the man, and he seemed to make no sound as he moved to loom over Kain. 

"You are awake." The low voice resonated from within the dark helmet, and Kain was quick to picture that there was nothing inside, just the echoing of that voice. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, and he wondered if he would keep burning out until he was like that. A clank of metal made Kain open his eyes once more. 

He had died, they both had died, for here was Cecil before him, but not Cecil at all. He had grown older and purer, until it looked as though he'd been created from the light of the moon itself. It only made sense, that past death Cecil would become this sort of perfection, his light wrapped in utter darkness, and Kain would be in a state such as this, broken, burning, and waiting for mercy. He reached out his hand to touch the ice-cold metal of the black gauntlet nearest him. 

"Cecil," he whispered, and the air in his throat felt like sand. 

"What?" Cecil--no, it was not Cecil, that sharpness had never crossed Cecil's face; the man before Kain looked nearly alien as he regarded him with water-pale, unblinking eyes. He removed the gauntlet that Kain's fingers had been resting on and let it drop to the bed, and his cold fingers against Kain's temples felt like shocks. 

This was not Cecil, the touch seemed to be telling him, forcing absolute truth into his mind. This was all that he deserved of his friend, this shadow-image, this mockery, and it was all he would get from this day forth, be he dead or alive. Kain let out a small whimper, half shaped into Cecil's name. 

"No. I am not." His hand left Kain's skin, but he could still feel the pressure. "I am Golbez."


End file.
